


recollection.

by memedic



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Spoilers for DMC5, bc vergil's mind be like that, griffon's One Line Of Dialogue, in the implication that v is based off of vergil's past lover, obviously, short fic, very soft v/vergil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memedic/pseuds/memedic
Summary: He isn’t even a block away when he hears it: The sweet sounds of a violin pouring from an open window. In a way, it was like a prayer. Certainly, his father would’ve appreciated it more than the endless praise the other mortals spew.





	recollection.

Fortuna’s streets were often unoccupied, Vergil had made sure to come and go when he knew most would be at worship, the less he was spotted, the better.

 

He isn’t even a block away when he hears it: The sweet sounds of a violin pouring from an open window. In a way, it was like a prayer. Certainly, his father would’ve appreciated it more than the endless praise the other mortals spew.

 

A point of weakness still lived here, and if he was to face the coming trials with full dedication, he needed to snuff it out. It wasn’t a weapon, not in literal terms, nor was it some ritual to sap his power, or a concoction that would poison him.

 

It was a man. A human, weak and frail.

 

_ Poor, pale, pitiable form that I follow in a storm… _

 

With ease he can make his way to the windowsill, and his landing is so soft that he only continues to play the violin, back facing the outside world. Every time he sees him, it stirs his heart. He’s vexed, certainly, and a part of him still wants to believe that he cannot possibly be human. At least, if he was a demon or some kind of witch, he could feel certain that these feelings were some kind of curse.

 

They’re real, though. He must face that truth as it is, and he lets his feet hit the floor of his bedroom, the violin music coming to an abrupt halt as Vergil makes himself known, speaking his weakness’ name. 

 

“Vitale.”

 

His love turns, rushed and clumsily, eyes wide with surprise. A smile breaks out over his features, he's overjoyed to see him again. He ignores the ache in his chest.

 

“Vergil, you're back… Did you hear me playing? You should’ve told me you were coming.”

 

He always masks the warmth Vitale gives him with a cold expression, but he knows he'll be read so easily. “I don't need to draw attention to this place by announcing my arrival.”

 

He brushes his soft black hair behind his ear, turning back to composition he'd been slaving over. “I suppose not… It's good to see you again.” He always spoke quietly in his presence, bringing the violin back under his chin and playing a soft melody of his own design.

 

There's conflict burning in Vergil's mind. He knows what’s coming, when what's done is done, no one will be spared. Not even Vitale, fair and even more enchanting in the light streaming in from the window.

 

Fortuna didn't deserve him. No one in any realm deserved someone as wonderful as him… Especially not Vergil.

 

His vexed feelings overtakes him, before he knew it he had his arms wrapped around him, Vitale’s back pressed to his chest.

 

“Vergil…?”

 

He asked quietly, and he only holds him closer. It would be so simple now to kill him. Painlessly, without a word. It would be merciful, in comparison to being hunted down by demons. Vergil could execute him so quickly he wouldn't even realize it had happened. He thought he could do it, but then Vitale speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper, unsure if he should say what he does.

 

“I… missed you.”

 

Vergil snapped, but not in the way he had wanted to. He'd spun Vitale around, ignoring the clatter of the violin to the ground. He kissed Vitale with a lack of restraint unfamiliar to him. His love surely cannot be mortal, his disdain for humans was always obvious, yet he cannot feel disgust in Vitale’s presence.

 

He was young, and these feelings were new. He couldn’t have expected them, much less resisted acting on them. When he came back to his senses, he pulled away in shame, only to stop when Vitale kept his grip on him. 

 

“Stay…” Is all he had to say, breathless, before he returned to the embrace. It only escalates between them, such a strong need to keep him closer, to protect him.

 

He could abandon it all, if he wanted. When he feels the heat of Vitale's breath against him, he knows he could never grow tired of it. He strips him bare, brings him to bed and gives in to him. Weakness had never felt so right, and he wanted so much to believe that he hated this feeling. He never did. Every sound he could pull from him was another piece of his soul that belonged to Vitale.

 

In the end, they're laying against each other, spent of energy and closer than they'd ever been.

 

“I love you.” Vitale confessed to him, tears spilling down his face. “I don’t want you to leave again.”

 

Yet still he left, and there were no farewells between them. Vergil had left no trace of his presence, no parting words, much less gifts.

 

...Or so he’d thought.

His final return to Vitale was at night. Vergil had known as soon as he saw how the window had been shattered that he’d made a mistake in letting his only love be alone. His home had been destroyed, shelves of books overturned, the foul stench of blood seeped into every corner.

 

Even in death, his love was beautiful. He was laying on the floor, the life already gone from him, his hair clotted with blood and draped over his face to hide his final expression. He had stood no chance against the demons that had long since abandoned his corpse.

 

He thought he’d been careful. That he’d given no indication that he’d been here, yet they’d found him anyway. It hurt, it dug into his heart more fiercely than any weapon could hope to, and he cursed his wretched humanity for making him feel so passionately over a human that had died so pitifully.

 

He set the house to flame, his lover inside. He watched from a distance as it burned, as crowds of Fortuna citizens tried to put out the fire before it spread to other homes, desperately trying to remember who it was who had lived there. He’d let his love for Vitale go with the home, as he’d given up his familial affection the night his mother had died.

 

The Temen-ni-gru was waiting for him...

 

“...V! HEY! V! WAKE UP, SHAKESPEARE!”

 

He snaps to attention, as if stirred from a dream. It happened, occasionally he’d get lost in his own memories… He’d seen his reflection on a passing shop window and it had dragged him into an unfortunate remembrance… So that was why he looked this way. Bit by bit, he was recovering more of the things Vergil had pushed out of his mind.

 

His chest aches, and he ignores it again.

**Author's Note:**

> lol i spellcheck my own work so there's probably mistakes in there i'm sorry..... v/vergil needs more recognition thanks


End file.
